The Necessary Sin
by hollowed-konshens
Summary: Launa-Cho Prescot is a participant in an exchange student program,and quickly settles in to Japanese culture. She finds her equilibrium thrown off balence when the youngest member of Matsumoto's clan goes missing. A mysterious text reveals a deeper danger
1. Chapter 1: Footsteps in a Corridor

Footsteps in a corridor

Mr. Matsumoto felt for his glasses, he rummaged around his breast pocket for his bifocals, because he simply did not believe. His breathing had shortened as the feeling of dread filled the space where his stomach was supposed to be. His small cubicle allowed little space for him to move around, his desk cluttered with paperwork, he reread the email he had opened seconds ago. He skimmed over the formalities and every few key words he mumbled over out loud, so his ears could comprehend what his eyes were seeing.

regret to inform.

No longer in need of services

clean out deskBusiness as usual

Matsumoto blinkedhe could not fathom, at any angle, how his years of service to Fujimoto Industries, could he be disposed off. His fingers combed through his neatly cut tresses; he pressed his forehead upon the hard surface of his workspace, his eyes roved around on his work, he lifted his head a little to see his designs properly and recognized the formulas from his workload. He gathered his files and stacked them into one. He leaned back the chair hinges squeaked in response. Matsumoto felt his face flush with anxiety and disbelief. He rested his arms on his forehead, the action forcing his eyes to look into the fluorescent lighting. Seconds later he returned to his upright position, rereading the E-mail he had received.

no longer in need of your servicesbusiness as usual he read allowed. A rumble in his throat emerged from his mouth as a chuckle. Mr. Matsumotos laugh soon evolved into a maniacal cackle. He stopped only when he lost his breath, and began wheezing to replenish his oxygen supply. He took off his glasses to wipe his brow and realized that he had been unknowingly drenched in a cold sweat. Matsumoto cleaned his glasses off from the imaginary flakes of dust that had settled on the lens. Standing up he felt unsteady as the blood rushed to his head and made a beeline to the bathroom.

I have dedicated my entire career to this company; what is an important man to do when he no longer has the security of the rug that was once beneath him? What can he call himself when he is no longer considered important? Mr. Matsumoto splashed cool water on his face. The sound of the running pipes seemed to calm his nerves a bit. A dark cloud of depression had settled over him. He lifted his head to gaze at his physiognomy; his features became sullen, and sunken-in. He reached beneath his eyes and felt the sagging skin folds, and dark rings under his eyes. He dried his face with the paper towels and promptly exited the restroom. His footsteps reverberated off of the walls; he passed the elevator to his cubicle and began packing his documents into his black briefcase. He stacked a group of papers and did not flinch when a foreign object fell at his feet. Almost mechanically he picked up the object and noticed that it was a computer disk. He opened its case to scrutinize the program that had been written on the three black lines, to only find the disk had been script free. Mr. Matsumoto in his melancholic attitude had not been in the mood to differentiate between company properties from his own. He set the disk aside and continued packing his desk; the screen on his computer sitting idle faded to black; Matsumoto had been used to being the first to work and the last to leave. He considered himself an important commodity; however tonight was different. The feeling of wasted years ate away at his pride, the feeling of realization that he had never been as important as he thought he was forced him to acknowledge why he felt that way in the first place.

As he lugged his countless documents into his briefcase he realized that this task could not be completed in a single trip. Locking his briefcases contents into place he took one second glance trying to remember if he had forgotten anything, the disk case the only piece of hardware that drew any lingering attention

Take it the voice harsh and quiet demanded echoing through the vents. Mr. Matsumoto reacted calmly to the voice; he had incorrectly assumed that it had been his own conscience that spoke to him. Quickly striding to his desk he snatched the disk and tucked it into his leather jacket.

Click klak click klak click

The sound of important expensive shoes on an important man his footsteps heavy with the weight of the world, measured strides of an important man. Pressing the down button former executive director of design Mr. Matsumoto blankly stared at hes reflection from the shiny metal doors of the elevator. He contorted his face as if to try and recognize the lines that creased his face, he reached to massage his five o clock shadow, brown eyes weary and red with depression. The man who he eyed every morning was not the same as he was now. Here stood the shell of a manan important man, dressed in the attire of a business suit and a large black briefcase, the uniform of an important man. The elevator doors slid open, the bright lobby lights gleamed with the glistening appeal of lavish luxuries. The comfy nude colored sofas and green shrubbery complemented the large glass front.

As if mesmerized for the first time in his life, he soaked in the feeling of extravagancies; he inhaled filling his lungs with clean purified air.

Goodnight.

Pardon? Mr. Matsumoto questioned. The receptionist stretching her back opened an eye, I said Goodnight. She looked as if she was cleaning her workspace to ready herself to leave. Mr. Matsumoto suddenly and desperately desired to prove that his earlier suspicion of his valueless life was no more than the unemployment blues talking. He lingered longer as if expecting her to finish a statement that she had forgotten to add.

can I help you? Mr. Matsumoto shrugged taking his one hand out of his olive green tweed pants, scratching his shadowed chin and walked a few meters closer,

Do you remember meI mean do you know who I am? he stumbled over the beginnings of his question finding better words to phrase his question. The receptionist perked an eyebrow, she had always seen his face, heard his name a time or two but other than that she did not know much about him.

-sama. She said reading the name on his briefcase, I dont know anything else besides your name. she continued honestly. Mr. Matsumoto cleared his throat bending his head down turning away,

Thats okay Inoue,

Mr. Matsumoto quickly strode to the entrance once safely outside he rummaged in his inner pockets and took out a pack of cigarettes. He flipped open the flap and took out a single cigarette placing it in between his lips. He looked around before striking a match.

****

Mr. Matsumoto rummaged in his pockets for his keys to his apartment, unlocking his door he heaved a sigh and tried to conceal his disappointment.

Good evening Mr. Matsumoto, came a voice. He instantly recognized the awkward dialect as his replacement daughter, the exchange student Launa-Cho.

Not expecting see her awake he stood in the doorway, and said nothing.

Shouldnt you be in bed? he finally managed to mumble.

UhI have a test in the morning so I thought I would study an extra hour before I go to bed. She said trying to understand his question.

Its getting late was all that he said closing the door. Make sure you turn off the kitchen light when youre finished. He said walking towards his bedroom.

Hai. she said quietly replacing her nose in her trigonometry book.

Mr. Matsumoto laid in bed awake unable to sleep. He would be expected to finish cleaning out his space. As he lay still the only sound he heard was the scratching of pencil to paper. Behind the door he heard the chair screech, and an attempt to stifle a yawn. He heard a door creak opened, the sound of his sons voice in angry Japanese chastise Launa for being loud. He then heard his sons door quietly close shut. After a few minutes he heard the sounds of slippers scrape across the floor, the click of the light switch flipping off, and the squeaking of a door closing. Mr. Matsumoto laid in silence for over an hour; he turned over his face pressing into the pillow, when he heard a scratching noise. He wanted to wallow properly in his defeat.

The sound of scratching became louder, Matsumoto quite annoyed reached for his trousers, getting the nerve to confront Launa he opened his room door to darkness. He couldnt understand where the sound was coming from. He walked to the computer desk, where he had placed the disk when he walked in; sitting in the desk chair he assumed it to be a discarded program that he had created he swiveled the mouse to awaken the computer from sleep mode, opening the case he placed the disk in the burner and waited for a change. His screen went blank then a single text box appeared

Do you wish to continue?

Mr. Matsumoto was cautioned to blindly click yes to any offer that would potentially affect the livelihood of his computer. Looking at the inside flap of the disk case it read _Plan B_. Matsumoto could not recall any program he had developed that he called _Plan B._ accidentally dropping the disk on the keyboard it clicked _Enter_; all at once the screen turned white program files that Matsumoto had never seen before, popped up on his screen. Mr. Matsumoto eyes glistened in the light of his computer. He rubbed his hands together; tonight he believed he would never be as important as he was now.

****

It happens to the best of us, Genrei. John, Mr. Matsumotos partner helped Matsumoto clear up the rest of his supplies, tried his best at lightening the mood. If it makes you feel any better those of us who are being forced to stay have to take this massive pay cut. He was one of the Americans, who were outsourced by Fujimotos sister company. Mr. Matsumoto stared blankly at the American; his shaggy locks covered his blue eyes. He dressed in a simple blue work shirt and tie, and black dress pants. He was the quintessential stereotype of Americans that Japanese upheld, which Matsumoto believed John did on purpose for what reason, he was unsure of.

John, you are completely out of line. Matsumoto replied dryly in English. In this economy I would be thankful to even have a job. He continued his baritone and his smooth English gave his retort a cool sounding mystery to his true emotions.

John looked at him swatting a curl from his lashes; he exhaled noisily and said Genrei do you need these boxes here? he said pointing to a box ajar from the position to the pair. Mr. Matsumoto waved him away and muttered something about getting them later. John shuffled away leaving Matsumoto to his own devices. Mr. Matsumoto cleared his throat, and took out the disk he found the day before and placed it into the computers disk burner. The program began to run by indication of the mouses pointer to an hourglass, looking around he reverted his attention back to the screen where the same textbox appeared but asked a different question.

Are you located at a personal computer?

Matsumoto clicked the no button, and another message appeared.

Do you wish to install _Plan B_ into this modem?

Matsumoto clicked yes. Are you sure? Matsumoto once more clicked the same reply as the first two questions. Matsumoto confident in the transfer stared at the screen as the loading textbox listed off various programs that were being downloaded. An unfamiliar question caused Matsumoto to jump when he read it.

Are you Matsumoto Genrei? Matsumoto became nervous, what he had seen last night, by his hand had the potential to send the company and effectively any Fujimoto subscriber/user/holders into a complete blackout of service. By him clicking yes would tie him back to the scene of the crime. And then there was the possibility that if he clicked no it would undermine everything he had worked on the night before. At this point Mr. Matsumoto would not risk his reputation, by being carted of to jail; for that was all he believed he had left and figured a simple virus would be enough to show his disproval of his termination.

He clicked no.

Breathing steadied he found that his pace began to quicken with the next phrase that appeared on his computer.

Liar

There was no yes and no component just a continue button that Matsumotos mouse clicked on.

I can see you

Matsumoto in his rush to look around his cubicle knocked over his coffee, he looked outside his working space and saw that there were a couple of others who had to clean out their workspace whilst the others were busy developing computer software. He went back to his screen and noticed that the message had disappeared and a new message had blazed across the screen.

What a mess youve made, in your ruckus you havent even looked for the obvious.

Mr. Matsumoto felt the hair on his neck stand up. Out the corner of his eye the motion of a foreign object caught his full attention; it was a black camera, taping his every move. He blinked and the sound of the mechanisms in the little machine whirled zooming in on Matsumotos confused face. He heard the sound of his computer pop-up and returned to look at the new message.

Secrete correspondent, Spotted

Pulling his collar the sound of a pop-up resounded and a new message appeared

Let me help you Mr. Matsumoto. The screen went blank and Matsumoto sat in his cubicle quietly, what help was this unofficial observer offering?

Genrei, you wanna tackle those boxes now? I know you dont have a job but some of us still have to work for a living.

Mr. Matsumoto turned slowly toward John and scowled, you have no tact about you. Mr. Matsumoto handed the lighter of the two boxes to John. As he reached for the second, he felt himself topple over at the sudden motion of the earth. The sound of an explosion burst from beneath his feet the vibrations quaked through his body his glasses flew from his nose, his head hit the edge of the boxes.


	2. Chapter 2:Doodles in a Comp Notebook

Doodles in a Composition Notebook

Idly Launa sat with the head of her eraser caught between her teeth chewing habitually; combing her raven hair away from her face with her fingers, her attention wavered from the mathematical illustration, pondering the next step in her equation. It was easier for her to lose focus when she was in a room with a window, however her last class of the day, Trigonometry, did not have such luxuries, and so Launas favorite form of escapism could not be reached and would force her to think of how unhappy she was.

She had lived with Mr. Matsumoto and his family for nearly three months and found that with each rising and falling of the sun her bright disposition drained from her. She had ruled out the possibility of her unhappiness that it could not have been the workload which she had been given; she was capable with keeping up with the class whilst maintaining a sport. It was, she hypothesized, the introduction of a completely foreign entity. She had been to other countries in the west mainly in Europe and no matter the language barrier; the culture shock probably wasnt as big as the one she was feeling at present. For one, her exchange family, the Matsumotos were a detached sort, her peers did not seem to take interest in her and in her opinion her isolation was probably due to her appearance and typical stigmas that accompanied their biased. She felt that she had been branded an outcast by her peers for simply being different physically. She had no proof to base her suspicions on but it seemed logical, she looked a little darker than her other classmates, however her face was round, with light brown slanted eyes.

Ten minutes left. The instructor warned. Launa reread the question to her final problem Use Pythagoras theorem to evaluate the length of _PR._

_Reviewing her process to how she applied the formula she continued on her work diligently until time had been called. It was a Thursday afternoon, and her classmates had been given the last ten minutes of class to socialize. They all drifted into groups and rarely strayed from their company. Launa swept a lock of hair behind her pierced ear and took out her green spiral notebook. She opened up to the date of her last login which was somewhat of a diary entry that she had written a week ago. It was a short entry, which epitomized her downtrodden feelings of invisibility; _

_We sometimes dont realize how transparent we really are until we look into the mirror to see what we think is there but never really was_

_****_

_Launa sank between the covers, since coming home she had been in a foul mood. She went to sleep, awoke, ate a little of her leftover baked chicken from the night before and after playing around with her tiny chicken bits, decided she wasnt in the mood to eat. She went to bed early with the impression that tomorrow would be a new and different day, which she could pretend that she was content in. Her eyes closed but all she could do was think, her mind was calculating, and imputing data, graphs, formulas, assignments to memorize, she was able to think about her current situation, and finally was able to place a name to itloneliness. Tossing to one side she opened an eye to look out her window, even though Mr. Matsumotos apartment was high up, she could still make out the flashing neon lights that illuminated the nightlife below. Tossing to the other side of her bed she notice a cooler change in the temperature, expecting to see darkness she was a little surprised to see the crack underneath her door shine with a blue light. She reached for her clock and saw the red numbers blink 1:38, rubbing her eyes Launa stretched her arms getting out of bed; she walked towards the door and placed a dainty hand on the knob. _

_At first what she heard sounded like scratching on wood panels, and then when she could no longer hear the scratching sounds, she heard whispering. After a minute of eavesdropping she realized it was almost like a conversation, though she could not tell who, or what it was between for that matter. Hoping she could stealthily conceal her movements she turned the knob of her door but hesitated drawing the door back to reveal who it was, because the conversation had reached a pause. When the voices resumed, Launa began to pull lightly at the bedroom door to a large enough crack to see that it had been Mr. Matsumoto, who was conversing with what seemed to be himself, until Launa caught wind of another voice that whispered inaudibly, then paused as if Launas presence had been discovered. Mr. Matsumoto closed the screen that Launa assumed had to be the source of the voice and proceeded to shut down his computer. Launa slowly crept away from the door and crept back underneath the covers of her bed and turned her back to her room door. The room door creaked open at the force of Mr. Matsumoto, who grumbled under his breath. Launa finally let out a breath when the room door shut, and tried to go to sleep._

_Launa turned to her right and stared at the tiny alarm clock that blinked 4:01. She had managed a few minutes of actual sleep until she felt in her lower regions the urge of natures calling tugging at her legs to take her to the bathroom to expel the waste. Sighing heavily she didnt notice that she was not the only one awake until she heard familiar whispering again. Launa now had an excuse to investigate, and feigned a yawn whilst opening the door; promptly the apartment grew quiet as Launas eyes met with Soifon, Mr. Matsumotos youngest of his brood. Her back turned to Launa her head alone moved in an almost exorcist 360 manner. She was in her night gown her black hair cut at her ears and pale skin gave her porcelain doll fakeness to her existence. _

_why are you still up. Launa asked in a concerned tone. Why are you? she replied. Launa had never known the child to be so rude and felt her little fondness for the girl slip away. I have to use the bathroom. Launa answered._

_I wet the bed. The girl said suddenly the conversations awkwardness became worse when Launa inquired as to the person Soifon had been talking to. _

_The people on the other side. Launa blinked, the screen was blank there was no webcam image, no multimedia box such as ITunes that appeared not even a task bar just a grey screen. What the hell is she talking about, do you mean on the other side of the computer? _

_Soifon shook her tiny head and faced the glowing monitor. She placed her hands on the screen and said their inside at that point the computer glowed with bright intensity then suddenly the warm light vanished. _

_its gone. She said pouting. Arching her eyebrows Launa called to soifon to follow her to bathroom, as she approached the strong smell of urine wafted into her nose. _

_ ****_

_Launa was not as productive or interactive as she normally was. She had not known why that event that took place between Soifon and herself had resurfaced in her dreams last night. _

_Now today we will be studying Shakespeare! there were a few moans here and there but for the most part the entire class had complied in unison. Launa usually took out her yellow composition notebook to take notes, but instead grabbed her green spiral notebook, and with pen in hand scribbled a little circle. Launa disinterested enough not even to write or draw how she was feeling, felt almost bored to tears when the class discussion began. It was uncharacteristically unnatural for Launa to remain silent in these discussions. She had always felt that it was necessary to voice how much she knew on a specific topic; she never used to worry about what her classmates thought of her because it was an issue that was never brought to the surface. She had always been vocal about many topics because she had placed the duty of becoming an unofficial representative, of her country on her shoulders. At first her drawing began as a horrible attempt at a chibi figure of her replacement familys son _Hayato_. She drew a black scribble over his face, and grinned with a tinge of satisfaction. Her attention returned to her classmates when she spotted the perfect muse for a fresh canvas. He had shaggy blonde hair that looked akin to a soft pallet of yellow. His eyes were green and shined as bright as his smile. He was talking to another person who had similar features but his hair was a golden blonde, and his eyes where the color of sapphires. Hinata was the green-eyed boys name. Since she first started school, she had admired him from afar, in a platonic sort of fashion. And when the tennis season started, she found it hard to concentrate when his eyes focused solely on her;_

_On the rare occasion when launa and Hinata did speak, it was a brisk conversation that often ended in one-worded answers. She had thought he was a nice person though she couldnt really tell what his personality was like. She had found his friend the most attractive out of his group of friends and fantasized about actually getting to speak to him. Returning to her notebook her new inspiration began to take the form of Chibi figures in bunny suits, considering thats what she new how to draw best. Throughout the class period, she would spend her time drawing the two friends, up until the ringing of the bell. _

_****_

_Launa had seemed unable to break her recent habit of slacking in her classes and in her last class of trigonometry the only thing of value she could get out of the lessons were that triangles have three sides. She did not write down the new formula she would need for the test, she once more neglected to participate, and embarrassed herself when she was caught drawing in class. During the last five minutes, she thumbed through the different pages of her new art and stopped momentarily from the entry she had paused at the day before. _

_We sometimes dont realize how transparent we really are until we look into the mirror to see what we think is there but never really wasis this a Haiku? Launa flinched at the verbalization of her thoughts and hugged her notebook to her chest defensively. Turning quickly to scold the culprit, her disapproval ebbed away to an extent when their eyes met; it was Watanabe Hinata. He looked at her with neutral green eyes, and genuine curiosity, his hair was a light shade of blonde that looked as lightly coifed, and as soft as a feather. He was a rather tidy looking individual that prided himself on his professional appearance. Launas almond shaped and colored eyes blinked with uncertainty as to why he stood behind her. _

_Its not bad by the way, very insightful, whose class are you writing it for? he continued. Ierr its just some drabbles I wasum she stuttered. It was the first anyone had spoken to her outside of Rina, who engaged her in friendly conversation, that didnt have a purpose other than to simply be a polite gesture. I just finished reading this book that my English teacher, in America prescribed to me. I think he thought I would be interested in the subject matter. Reaching for the pad he didnt seem defensive when he explained, hey I didnt finish I want to know what you thought about it._

_But you dont even know what book it was from, she replied. Well Im sure if youre just writing how the book made you feel I can kind of get a grasp on what it is said._

Giving in slightly Launa offered to read the rest of her thoughts on the book she read and how she was able to relate to it. To her surprise Hinata seemed authentic in that he was not the type to ask to hear something and pretend to be interested. His undivided attention never roamed to any other female, his ears alert to the point where he corrected her Japanese on certain words and still was able to keep away a condescending attitude towards her mistake. When she finished the last syllable he looked at her with a noticeable change in his usual happy demeanor.

What a miserable story, he finally said after little thought. I couldnt sit through an entire 500 pages of such a wretched existence.

Launa was very quick to scrutinize her surroundings when out her element. She had taken to people watching, and liked to see their mannerism in a natural setting. Hinata had always been on her radar. She had four classes with him and never once did he ever speak to her outside of the tennis court, which made it somewhat an easier task to judge him objectively without much biased. But soon she realized that their really was no getting around her physical attraction to him. She had found his personality to be something she needed; he was caring considerate and ready to give his undivided attention to any persons needs. But the crowd he hung around was completely opposite to how he behaved; at least at face value they seemed so different.

Oi Hinata, stop bothering the poor girl. A voice behind him ordered placing a tanned hand over the shoulder of Hinatas uniform. I just wanted to talk to her shes so quiet. Hinata responded. His blond hair tousled carelessly shined in the lighting like locks of gold. Even through his uniform his body was defined through the contours and curves of the bulge of his muscles. He was the perfect fit, not overly muscular just the right size of athletic built. His blue eyes held an air of friendliness and maintained a cool exterior, which made many of his female classmates fawn and drool over him. Yamato Ishida Launa said with recognition. Hmm? he responded

My exchange correspondent told me all about you. Did shedo I know her?

MegumiMatsumoto Megumi? she began then repeated the name in its entirety when she realized that he had not made mention of acknowledgment. Dont think I ever spoke to her, he said contemplating if he had ever had a conversation with a Megumi Matsumoto. Launa felt her face heat up with a sudden realization. She remembered the e-mails and pictures of Megumis friends and classmates. But most of all she remembered distinctly how long Megumi went on and on about Yamato Ishida. She placed him on a pedestal of an ideal student, talented musician, and wonderful personality, not to mention he was quite handsome. She described his voice, his demeanor, his likes and dislikes, as if they were close personal friends. She said he was a local celebrity due to his rock band; could it have been that the Yamato before her was the same thing he was to Launa as he was to Megumi, a person completely absentminded of their existence. Well I wouldnt be surprised; Yamato has quite the fan club. Hinata said. Shrugging his shoulders Yamato, and Hinata attempted at engaging conversation with Launa, which she approached carefully. It was something about Yamatos dismissal of Megumi that bothered her and marred her image of him.

Yamatos going to do a gig tomorrow afternoonwould you like to come? Hinata asked. Launa was unsure she wanted to participate but Hinatas generous offer seemed tempting.

Sounds cool, she managed hoping she didnt sound disinterested. Great! Now were all even. Yamato said. Launa did not know what he meant by his last statement but found a new muse to focus on. The bell rung as the minute hand struck the 12; whilst packing her things Yamato and Hinata along with Hayato disappeared into the mass of bodies that rushed for the door. When Launa exited the classroom she was hailed up by Hinata.

Is it okay if I walk you home? he asked. Its okay, she began, Hayato usually -

Yeah, he and Yamato ran off, you know they had band stuff to doI wasnt sure if you wanted the company so I figured I would ask instead of making an excuse to walk you home. Hinata smiled a three quarter smile and his pale skin broke out in a rosy stripe against his pale skin. its fine Hinata, thank you for offering but, I have to go somewhere and I dont want to put you out of your way, you live on the opposite side of where I live soI guess Ill see you tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3: A promise to Ichijouji

A promise to Ichijouji

They are not coming, Demon finally admitted to himself. The sound of calming waves crashing onto the beach had no longer had the soothing effect that they once held when he was first banished to this other world. In his silent purgatory he had time to ponder what his next moves would be. His mind wandered back to the very person who placed him in his cell, casted him to the ominous regions of this dark ocean. His initial reaction to such an attempt was amusement; he thought the effort of those six children were a futile err that they would live to regret. When he was successfully pushed into this dimension, he still found humor in that where he was sent did not offer him any physical punishment, and differed only slightly from his quarters in the dark manor. He vowed his revenge; and why shouldnt he? He was made to look like a weakling, a giant among ants, outwitted, and outmatched by a class of hybrid abominations, through unnatural evolution.

The more he thought about the offense the more it agitated him that he could not leave. When he was embroiled in battle with the six destined children, he had taunted them with the knowledge that he cannot simply be returned to the digital world, he unlike lower-class megas are not bound by the limitations of drifting through dimensions. He could return just as easily, if he had been forced into a digital portal. Some how his powers of drifting through dimensions have eluded him here, and now he, Demon, a Lord of Wrath, bested by children and their pets, was stranded in a state of suspended animation. The time in this dimension never passed, it was only a thought that existed in his mind. The terrain spanned as far as he could see and was willing to bother to explore. He had understood that he was effectively rendered powerless as long as he was here and it wasnt something he could easily get adjusted to.

He belonged to an elite class of lords who were banished from a large portion of the digital world, and though each member will say they submit to no one, they are subjects to Lucemon, the Leader of the Seven Great Demon Lords. Demon was perhaps a little more open with his loyalty than others; he was willing to go out of his way to further Lucemons plans because of the unnecessarily large amounts of carnage that his leader demanded. And being a demon that thrives on the butchery of other souls he was proficient at what he did best. But he had noticed a change in his dear leader when he demanded that Demon sink beneath his standards and retrieve a spore from a child. He was never informed of its purpose but out of respect for his leader he and his minions descended upon Japan searching for the child.

Silently his rage building he had forgotten their names and remembered only one face. Looking up into the gray sky; he was a picturesque vision of atonement. The feeling of humiliation, his failure in his mission, he floated above the rocky cliff that declined in a sharp and jagged end at the oceans wave that weathered away much of its pointed edges. His true form concealed by his burgundy cloak felt a little heavier than normal, due to the moist air. The fabric gave neither indication nor indentation of a shape, and only gave him a staunch rigid appearance epitomized by the exaggeration in his pointed shoulders, and the dark pattern on the front and the arms of his garb. His claws barely concealed brandished dull fingernails that were a magenta color. His face hidden and only showed his eyes, shocking light blue; his pointed hood gave him an extra foot and a half his white horns poking out of his disguise, along with leathery wings that were contracted.

His plans would be as soon as he was able to escape to return to the real world and lay waste to the child that brought him to this aggravating point. But one thing that hindered his movements was his inability to remember the name of the child that imprisoned him.

I cannot sit idly by and let my opportunity for revenge slip away from my grasp. He quietly mused to himself, If that is one thing I must accomplish before I leave, I must learn the name of the enemy that I owe my fury to the face of the child tormented him. Dark purple hair, light purple eyes, the face of a weakling

K-Ken, he slowly verbalized. Ichijouji as if in a sudden frenzy at the thought he repeated the name in such haste that he at several points fumbled over the name. His rage peaked when flames of his own doing burst around him mushrooming in circular trails of smoke, as he repeated with fanatic declaration Ichijouji Ken! his voice disturbed the water below him and his wings spread apart as if he was to take flight, he was ready to return to the real world to kill Ken Ichijouji.

As if on cue a green aura had began to spiral out of thin air; the green aura solidified into a plasma-like green substance that etched into the beginnings of a quadrilateral figure. When the outline of the figure began to materialize into a door his sudden assumption of being abandoned by his fellow comrades ebbed away at the slow opening of the door. As it groaned open a rush of wind flowed in clashing directions causing Demons robe to sway madly, and his medallion to heavily beat on his chest. When the door finally did open, the figure he expected to see had a distinct feminine appearance, much different from his leaders shape. He surmised that the only female it could have been would have had to belong to Lilithmon or perhaps the Lady of the Manor herself. When the gust subsided he moved eerily through the sky as if the door had a strange magnetic attraction that drew him in. His suspicions confirmed when, he was able to see through the little lighting the black cat suit, the purple cloth that adorned her waist and her arms concealing her Nazar Nail. The top halves of her breast and her shoulders revealed white skin as pale as powder, a leather chocker concealing her neck, and donning purple on her lips and eyelids. Her blue eyes stared on in her typical condescending manner, before her face swelled with a childlike expression, that Demon had come to detest.

What are you laughing about now? he demanded. Lilithmon burst into high pitched laughter resounding in the tall walls of the darkened room.

Wiping an imaginary tear, she seemed to have settled down before finally collecting her composure. Come now, its quite obvious why Im so giddy. She said latching on to his sleeve. Forcibly removing her normal hand he responded I fail to see the humor. Looking into the blue slits that his hood did not conceal she once more was reduced to her high-pitched childlike laughter; Demon now remembered why he wasnt in such a hurry to return to the digital world; Lilithmon was just as annoying as those children were, her voice, her immature mannerism, she did not fit in with her atypical behavior. She did not follow the typical decorum of any of her other counterparts of being serious, and perhaps showing initiative to get her task completed without the need of having to drag out the experience. That is she only seemed to behave this way when Lucemon wasnt around. As long as he was away her behavior was free to remain unchecked.

Enough with your giggles, where is Lucemon? he questioned immediately wanting to rid her from his presence. As if she had been under hypnosis and Lucemons name was the key to transform her into her old personality she stood erect and her serious physiognomy made him almost wish that she would return to her childishness.

Actually, that was the reason I had to summon you in secrecy.

Hmm?

Initially the other Demon Lord members requested that neither I nor Leviamon bring you back. Unfortunately, youre being casted off to the Dark Ocean many of the other lords agreed would be adequate punishment, for your failure in the human world.

I understand he looked away from her, before his eyes finally rested on his feet. And what hath Lucemon decreed?

Lilithmon remained silent, forcing Demon to meet her gaze when she finally said, he has been taken from us. Her voice broke. Our leader is gone; our council in turmoil because no one knows what he was planning to do not even his next move. She paused catching her breath after rushing through the events that took place in Demons absence before continuing. It has been three months since our leader has been gone, you were away for five. I figured since he sent you on that mission, it must have been for a serious purpose; perhaps he disclosed some useful information to you? she said leaving her statement with an open question.

He has done no such thing. He said finally closing the gap between them. At the very least you were his closest ally, Im sure if my meddling had done anything right it was to secure that we have someone to take over and bring chaos under control.

Than that is what I will bring, a united front to rest your nerves, and the restlessness of the others.

Lilithmons quietness was uncharacteristic. She was normally known to carry on long conversations with little to no purpose. It was probably expected that the absence of Lucemon had affected her most out of all the other demon lords.

What do you plan to do? she asked her eyes dodging his. I want to play a game. He said his voice descending sinisterly.

He ended the conversation angrily pushing past her, his footsteps creating the only noise he shoved the wooden door aside, leaving Lilithmons lingering gaze to finally close her glowing orbs in a quiet contemplation.

If there was one thing Demon knew how to keep it was a promise. And he vowed his return, to the human world, and would execute his promise to exterminate the one named Ken Ichijouji.


End file.
